The Untold Story: Amala Tully
by CharlotteBlackwood
Summary: Jon Snow's parentage has been the murkiest, most enthralling mystery never solved... until now. The story of Amala Tuly and Eddard Stark. NS/OC, a bit AU, probably some OOC behavior...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This MIGHT be a bit AU or OOC. I apologize. I've only read about 200 pages of Game of Thrones, but this came to me in a dream the other day and I realized I had to write the story. I hope you all enjoy it!**

** -J**

Catelyn's betrothed would be along soon. He was bringing his brother this time, Amala reminded herself as she brushed her long, red hair. She'd heard many great things about Eddard Stark from his older brother, Brandon, and she couldn't help but think he would make a wonderful husband.

Amala was the second child in the Tully family, and as attentions had been largely on marrying off Catelyn and raising Edmure into a proper lord to succeed their father, Hoster Tully, so Amala had been not exactly ignored, but her own marriage prospects weren't at the forefront of anyone's mind. She didn't really mind so much, but she'd like to know what might be in her future, just so she knew.

Their mother had told Amala to wear her best dress, which signaled to her that their mother must agree, that Eddard Stark would make a wonderful husband, just like his brother. Amala didn't have to be told twice, adverse as she usually was to dresses, to put on her best dress. She slipped into the blue gown and admired the color on her, with her red hair and nut-brown eyes. Amala couldn't help but smile as one of her maids quickly whipped her long hair into an intricate creation on top of her head that her own clumsy fingers would have never managed.

Amala's feet were very coordinated, which made her a famously excellent dancer, but things that required nimble fingers had always been beyond her ken, much to her mother's great frustration. She'd never been able to 'properly' do her own hair or 'properly' do needlework. Sure, it wasn't as good as what Catelyn managed, but Amala had always thought it was quite passable, at the very least. It would have been nice to have had her mother be proud of her as she was of Catelyn, for once, but the lessened expectations were at times welcome.

There were no lessened expectations today, though, and Amala could feel it in her veins as she made her way down to meet the Starks as had been arranged. If she were Catelyn or Edmure, she would have been running late, but Amala's quick, lively feet carried her where she wanted at such speeds, even on the stone of Riverrun, that she managed to make it to the castle front before Catelyn, which was well, because her parents were there, and seemed very intent to have private words with Amala, by the look of her father and the gesture of her mother.

"Yes, father?" Amala said almost breathlessly. She tried to not sound as though she'd run the whole way, which was supposedly unbecoming, but her mother's frown told her that the breathiness of her voice had not gone unnoticed.

"We want to remind you," Hoster Tully told his second child, "that Eddard Stark is yet to be betrothed. If you conduct yourself properly, Amy, that could very well change. I'm sure I need not tell you how important this is for your future."

"Yes, father," Amala said quickly. "I understand."

It was good that she did, for they didn't have any time to explain it to her if she hadn't, for at that moment Catelyn, Edmure, and Lysa arrived, each looking much more calm and composed than Amala, but they had left their chambers earlier and hadn't had to run the length of the castle to simply be on time.

There was a sound of arriving horses to announce that the Starks were nearing the gates and the children lined up by age, as was customary. Catelyn and Edmure stood on either side of Amala, and Catelyn leaned in slightly and hissed, "Did you run here from your chambers, Amy?"

"It's none of your business, Cat," Amala snapped back, smiling broadly as the first of the Starks, Brandon himself, entered the gate of Riverrun, followed closely by his younger brother, Eddard Stark.

Eddard was just as handsome as his brother, Amala thought, but with less bravado. He was a quieter soul, she could feel it just looking at him, and she wanted to know what there was behind the cold, Stark exterior.

Not that he was unfriendly. The northerners were simply not of the same ways as others. They spent their lives in winter, it seemed. Winter is coming, she'd heard Brandon say to Catelyn, and she didn't really understand what it meant, but it seemed to mean something very important to him. They were a mysterious sort of family, but Amala liked mysteries and puzzles, and she liked very much the way that Eddard Stark watched her as his brother greeted her parents and sister warmly, like he was already their family.

Amala was so focused on the man her parents were sure would be her future husband that she almost didn't notice the arrival just behind him of his sister, whom she knew to be named Lyanna, and their younger brother, Benjen.

"This is my Catelyn," Brandon said proudly, introducing his bride-to-be to his siblings. "And this is her sister, Amala."

Amala smiled just a little brighter, and it seemed to pay off, as Eddard smiled just slightly at her, kissing her hand gently, the way Brandon did whenever he saw Catelyn for the first time in a day. Her heart fluttered just a bit and she felt her pulse quicken as his hand touched hers, although there was no skin contact but for his lips, with the gloves he wore for riding. But his lips... Oh, she hardly minded.

Brandon introduce the other children, and asked when Lord Arryn would be arriving.

"Jon is meeting us at the Tourney, actually," Amala's father said. "Something came up and he was unable to make the journey out to see us prior, but we will see him there."

"How disappointing," Brandon said honestly. He had loved seeing Jon Arryn at Riverrun about twice as much since he sent Petyr, or Littlefinger as they'd all affectionately called him, away for challenging him in a foolish duel for Catelyn's hand. Catelyn had begged that her future husband spare the life of her childhood friend, and with the help of Jon Arryn, Hoster Tully made certain that Petyr was banished from Riverrun, so Brandon kept good on his word. "But I suppose we'll see him at the Tourney, so that will be pleasant."

The Tourney was called the Tourney at Harrenhal, and although there was supposedly some sort of reason for it, Amala had overheard her parents talking and she knew that what it really was, was a front for Prince Rhaegar to meet with other important lords in order to attempt to overthrow his own father and take the throne. The dragons were a strange lot, Amala had decided, and that was that. She would enjoy the festivities, whatever the reasoning behind them.

There was a feast in the honor of the visiting Starks, and Amala hardly failed to notice that as Catelyn entered on the arm of Brandon, Amala was on the arm of Eddard, Edmure with Lyanna on his arm, and Lysa on the arm of an awkward-looking Benjen Stark. They sat as such, which Amala knew was more than just a trick of her parents to get her to spend more time with Eddard.

"So, Amala," Eddard said kindly over the noise of the feast, "you are quite pretty. My brother spent days on the journey just describing your sister's beauty, but I don't think he spent more than an hour telling us about the rest of you combined. A grievous oversight on his part, I have to say."

"Not so, Eddard," Amala said back, having to speak louder than she would have liked, again because of the din surrounding them. "Everyone knows that Cat is the beauty of the family. You've merely seen me in a flattering dress. I assure you, I'm typically a fright to behold."

"Somehow I doubt that," he said with a brilliant smile that made Amala wonder why all the snow within three days of Winterfell hadn't melted at the glare of it. "Please, call me Ned."

"And call me Amy," Amala replied, blushing at the thought of him asking her to be so familiar so soon. It was a good sign, she supposed. A sign of progress toward what could someday soon be a betrothal.

"I like it very much," he replied, taking a quick sip of wine. "It suits you, almost as much as the dress you think is so essential suits your natural beauty."

Natural beauty. He truly was absurd. She knew she was nothing of the sort, especially compared with his beautiful sister down the table from them. She could put the whole of the castle to shame with her brilliant and glorious radiance. It made Amala nothing short of self-conscious.

"You flatter me," she replied, knowing nothing else to say.

"I am sorry," Eddard replied, looking a bit sheepish. "I am not as good with words as Brandon. You must know how he is by now. He always seems to know what to say and when to say it and in just the right way. I, I don't know ever how to express what I think and see and feel, and I'm not entirely comfortable trying to be half as good with words as he is, so I simply do my best to tell the truth. I hope I'm not being too forward or rude, but-"

"No!" Amala said quickly, blushing at the realization of her own rudeness, cutting off his words like that, although he didn't seem to mind. "No, I don't think you're being forward or rude at all! In fact, I think you've been rather wonderful with your words. You've certainly enchanted me."

"I take that as a great feat, then," he said with a smile. "Tell me, Amy, do you dance?"

The dancing had only just begun, and although Amala normally wouldn't have danced in that particular dress, she got the distinct feeling that her mother would want her to, but also that Eddard Stark typically ask girls to dance just because he thought it seemed like something fun to do.

"Yes, I do," she said happily. "Do you?"

"Not as well as I'd like to, I'll admit," he said with a smile. "But I'd love to try, if you'll permit me."

"Of course," Amala said, taking his proffered hand and letting him lead her out into the world of her element.

Catelyn could be gracious and perfect and everything a lady ought to be, everything the next Lady of Winterfell was supposed to be, but when Amala was on the dance floor, the entire room at least slowed what they did, if not stopped completely, to watch. She had a natural grace and elegance when dancing that even the slight clumsy lead of Eddard Stark could not too greatly diminish. She had always thought that her dancing was best appreciated by those watching, not by her dancing partner, but Eddard seemed more than appreciative of her grace and ability, even laughing as she began to almost lead him, in her own little way.

She loved his laugh, Amala decided. She wanted to do everything she could from that moment on to ensure that Eddard Stark continue to laugh so around her, and she wanted just as badly to be the reason for the brilliant smile on his face. Amala couldn't help but blush a bit when she thought of the way his face seemed to light up as he looked at her. Surely, she'd done well. Surely, her parents would be pleased with her performance.

And Amala was anything but disappointed at the thought that she might someday marry Eddard Stark.

They walked out toward the end of the feast, no one seeming to notice the disappearance of two of the more important members of the event, probably because the world seemed to revolve around Catelyn whenever Brandon was at Riverrun, and Amala didn't mind. She especially didn't mind as Eddard led her out under the stars in the cool night air.

"It's beautiful here," he whispered. "A man could get lost in it all."

She couldn't help but smile to herself.

"Is that how you think of yourself, Ned? A man?"

"Well, I'm older than fifteen, certainly," he reasoned softly, not as one upset by her obviously impertinent and out-of-line statement, but as one wishing to explain his viewpoint to an equal. "I'm old enough that they let me carry steel. That counts for most all of it, if you ask me, although I've not lain with a woman, and some would argue that that means I'm not yet a man."

For some reason, the way Eddard was whispering almost directly into her ear that he'd never been with a woman, the words themselves even, filled her with a thrill she didn't quite understand or know the name of. But she liked it, she decided, as she looked up at his face in the starlight.

"I think you're a man," she decided on the spot, almost as the words were spilling off her lips. "A real man doesn't measure his worth in personal milestones, noble or otherwise, but in his ability to carry out the duty and honor of his family."

Eddard smiled, she could see in the shadows of the night.

"You truly are a Tully," he whispered.

"To the core," she said happily. "My father says I'm more a Tully than almost any other Tully in generations. It's quite an honor."

"I suppose it is," he smiled, brushing a bit of hair that had flown into her face with a breeze out of her nut-brown eyes. "It's truly beautiful here. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

For some reason, Amala got the distinct feeling from his blush that he wasn't talking about Riverrun anymore and she didn't know what to say. So instead, she broke the awkward, tense silence by saying, "Do you know when we leave for the Tourney?"

"Tomorrow, if we're to be there before it starts, as we should," Eddard said, his voice shaking a bit. Was he afraid of the Tourney? No, surely not. She didn't think he would be in it, either. He was still young. It didn't seem like a fearful tremble in his voice, anyway, although it wasn't something she recognized, exactly.

"I suppose I'll have to finish my packing before I go to bed," she said thoughtfully. "Mother will be very upset with me for leaving it all to the end again."

"Oh, you do that too?" he said with a small laugh, again, shaking a bit. "Lyanna does it as well. It drives everyone a bit crazy, but we don't travel so very often, so she doesn't really have a need to be punctual about it all the time. She's used to being at Winterfell."

"What's it like there, at Winterfell?"

Eddard was silent for a moment, thinking, perhaps letting memories fill his mind as Amala would before describing something for someone else. She always thought it was important to do that, to think over what she was about to say and make sure she didn't leave out anything important. Apparently, she wasn't alone in this trait that had always made Catelyn frustrated.

"It's cold," he said slowly, "outside the castle. Winterfell's built on a natural hot springs, actually, so it stays incredibly warm within the walls of the castle. There's a room where I have to open the window, my mother's chambers, if I'm inside of it. I'm a Stark. I've got snow in my veins."

"That seems a bit silly," Amala thought out loud, "being as fond of cold as you Starks seem to be and yet building your castle in such a warm place."

She realized she was being rude again, but instead of seeming offended in some way, he laughed again, seeming to find amusement in her poorly chosen words.

"I suppose you're right about that," Eddard said, still laughing lightly through his words. "You're a very clever girl, Amala Tully."

She blinked. No one had ever called her clever before. She'd been too slow, too clumsy, too fat-fingered, too careless, and she'd even been called and artist of dance, but no one had ever called her clever. It felt like a strange thing, hearing Eddard Stark, someone she'd long ago decided was one of the smartest men in the world, calling her clever.

"Really?" she whispered. "You really think I'm clever?"

"Absolutely," he said with a small smile. "I suppose you ought to be getting off to bed now..."

"Yes," Amala sighed sadly. "Yes, I suppose I should. We're probably leaving quite early in the morning."

"That was what Brandon told me," Eddard said with a nod. "Good night, Amala."

"Good night, Eddard," she breathed, turning to go with a nod to him.

"Wait," he said quickly, and she turned back around perhaps hastier than she should have. He took her hand, no glove, and kissed it once more, his thumb rubbing gently across her skin.

"Sweet dreams," he whispered as he let her hand go and she couldn't hide her blush as she whispered her thanks and rushed away to her room.

Amala couldn't help but squeal excitedly as she got to her own rooms. Her heart was racing, but that could have been from the running. The blush still lit her cheeks, but that could have also been from the running. Her greatest fear, she realized as she quickly changed into her night clothes, was that she wouldn't be able to continue to impress Eddard Stark outside of the most rigid of ceremonial circumstances. Travelling, she realized, horrified, he wouldn't want anything to do with her anymore.

She wasn't going to cry, Amala told herself firmly. It wasn't over yet, and anyway, there was no use crying over a man.


	2. Advice

Still thinking of Amala Tully's pretty smile, Eddard Stark wandered through Riverrun, wondering what it would feel like, running his fingers through her pretty red hair. After a moment, he realized he was standing outside the chambers designated for his brother, Brandon. With a sigh, he admitted to himself that it was subconsciously where he wanted to go. He knocked on the door, hearing his brother's call to enter, and took a deep breath, making his way inside the room.

Brandon was running his fingers through his hair, considering his reflection in the mirror on the wall when Eddard came in. It wasn't vanity, Eddard knew. His brother was thinking of his chances in the Tourney. Brandon saw him over his shoulder in the mirror and turned, smiling.

"Amala's very pretty," Eddard said softly. "You didn't do her justice with your sparse descriptors."

"I didn't want to influence you," Brandon said with a mischievous grin. "Come, sit. Let us talk about Amy and all her charms."

Eddard instantly felt embarrassed about deciding to talk with his brother. Yes, she was a very pretty girl, but he wasn't the first-born son... What did he have to offer a beautiful girl like her?

Brandon must have sensed his hesitance because he began to prompt.

"Did you enjoy dancing with her?"

With a grin he could not contain, Eddard nodded and said, "You know I did. How could any man not enjoy such grace and art?"

"She's a wonderful dancer," Brandon agreed happily. "It is the one thing she's constantly praised for. I've never heard a soul say anything otherwise about it."

"She seems quite modest, though," Eddard sighed, looking around the room. "She's clever and beautiful and she didn't seem comfortable with either truth."

"No, she wouldn't," Brandon said with a soft frown. "She's not used to being praised for anything than her dance."

Eddard was sure that that was completely unfair, but he was still overcome with such confliction about her and what to do about his almost indescribable pull to her so he said nothing, almost lost in his own world and thoughts.

"Her parents are starting to think about matches for her," Brandon said, not subtle at all in his hinting.

"They think they want me?" Eddard said skeptically. "I'm not going to be Lord Stark. She can have a lord, Bran. She shouldn't aspire so low as me."

"Ned, they'll be happy to get her married off at all. She's not usually as charming as she was with you. She's usually entirely resistant and willful. Whatever the reason, she's taken to you, before she even met you she took to you, and if they can get you interested enough for a marriage proposal, they're going to make the match because they're not going to get a better one. Not for her, not for the Tullys."

It was a lot to take in, and Eddard shook his head, looking around the room, trying to wrap his mind around what might happen to Amala if he didn't at least consider marrying her. She would be married to... well, he would have said this Petyr Baelish if it hadn't been for the boy's foolishness toward Catelyn's match with Brandon. Perhaps some lowly lord would be happy for the match, although the odds that it would be a man less than twice her age were not good, considering what Brandon was telling him, and Eddard could not picture Amala happy at all in such a life. No wonder she was willful at the prospect of marriage and the expectations with it.

"She is beautiful," Eddard found himself whispering.

"You don't have to decide right away, Ned," Brandon laughed. "She's going with us to the tourney, remember? You've got plenty of time to try out courting her. I expect you'll be seeing plenty of her true nature during the tourney. Too bad you're not old enough to go and win it for her."

Eddard snorted. He detested tourneys, although the thought of riding up to Amala and presenting her with a flower in his moment of victory, expressing where everyone could hear how lovely she was... There was certainly something attractive about that thought.

"I shall think on it," Eddard said with a shake of his head, trying to force images of her shining, proud face out of his mind. "But you know how I feel about tourneys."

"Yes, well, the admiration of a beautiful woman can change many things," Brandon said with a shrug. "You are right, she is very beautiful, although I doubt she hears it quite often, and it wouldn't be altogether proper for me to say it. Perhaps you should put Lyanna up to the task. You know she would do it diligently."

Eddard smiled and nodded. Lyanna would think it was a grand idea, to make up for the years of Amala not being told what she ought to have heard. It would be a silly sort of thing, though, Lyanna sitting beside Amala all day and hissing into her ear every compliment that came to mind. Amala would know that she was put up to it for certain, and she would know it was Eddard's doing, and then what would she think of him, of his honest praise and devotion? She was sure to think it insincere, at the very least. He shook his head and turned to Brandon.

"No, that wouldn't be a good idea, I think. Thank you for the talk, Bran. I think I ought to get some sleep." Bran nodded and Eddard made his way back to his own bed, thinking all the way about the way Amala swayed as they danced and how right it felt when his hand was on her waist, and how badly he had wanted to simply wrap his arms around her and kiss her. He'd never thought about kissing someone before, he mused as he crawled into bed and pushed the covers aside, already over-warm in the southern castle.

The trip to the tourney was no short ride, especially with women along, but Eddard was pleased to find that Catelyn and Amala, unlike their mother, were nearly as fast as Lyanna. Amala didn't have the grace on a horse that Catelyn and Lyanna did, but there was something about the way her cheeks turned pink as she grew flustered and frustrated with her mount that made Eddard smile slightly to himself, watching her out of the corner of his eye as she tried to coax the mare to her will, which wasn't going very well for her.

"They can smell fear, Amy," he said casually, trying very hard not to laugh as she groaned with frustration.

"So I've heard," she said, voice full of frustration. "How am I supposed to manage this thing?"

"You're doing quite well, for all your huffing and puffing," he told her honestly. "Just try to relax."

"Easier said than done," she growled, more to herself than to him, and Eddard couldn't help but laugh at that. "I'm not a serene Stark, Ned, made with ice in my belly."

"I don't suppose you've ever made a house of snow," Eddard said wistfully. "They're cold as the forest on the outside, but they're warm enough to live in on the inside. You can even light a small fire in them and not melt the house. The ice is not in the belly, Amy. It's on the outside."

He turned to look at her and found her looking at him, mouth slightly open, lips curved into an almost-smile that looked so suited to her face that he wasn't sure where to look, her pretty eyes or her pretty lips. Instead, he smiled slightly and turned away and looked ahead to where Brandon and Catelyn were riding side-by-side.

They were a beautiful couple, Eddard knew. Brandon the strong, brave, warrior with a fair face for one of Winterfell and Catelyn, with the auburn Tully hair and fair complexion, truly a beauty from her body alone. Eddard would be a poor companion for Amala's beauty, he knew. Especially in comparison with his brother, the brave, strong Brandon Stark, Lord Stark someday when their father was gone. Eddard was nothing by comparison.

But he turned again to look at Amala, who was calming down considerably as her mare did so, and he felt something in his chest stir as he gazed at her strong features, her blossoming figure. She had a profile that any girl her age would wish for. How could she not have seen her beauty? Even without being told, how could she not have known, not have realized how perfect she was?

Perhaps, Eddard reasoned, looking forward once more, she'd never thought about it, and so never noticed. From what Brandon had said, she didn't care much about such things, at least not typically. Eddard to could tell that even with the riding, she was making an effort to be graceful and poised in spite of her frustrations. Was it really on his account? Could she really be making herself so enticing merely for his benefit?

Part of him certainly hoped so.

They reached Darry by nightfall, and Catelyn called upon the lord of the castle to house them for the night, which he gladly did, for honor of her father, Lord Hoster Tully. Eddard paid little mind to the ceremony, only greeting the lord as he knew he ought when it was his turn and then turning to watch Amala and Lyanna wander off toward their rooms. Eddard fought the desire to follow them and followed Brandon toward where they would sleep for the night.

"Cat says you were watching Amy today," Brandon said with amusement in his voice. "Have you thought on what I told you?"

"It would be difficult not to," Eddard admitted, hoping he was not blushing. "It seems she has been in my thoughts since I met her, and little else. But I don't deserve her, Bran. She's too..."

"Even after watching her on a horse?" Brandon laughed outright. "Well, perhaps you truly love her, then Ned. She could scare away a raper if they saw her clumsiness, methinks."

"Don't say that," Eddard growled. "You know that's base."

"Base doesn't mean false," Brandon said with a shrug as they turned a corner. "At any rate, she spent quite a lot of time looking at you, too. I even caught her licking her lip as she watched you ride. I doubt she knew she was doing it, though. All you would have to do would be to kiss the girl and she'd fall right into your bed."

"Bran-"

"Ned, you're going to have to eventually if you marry the girl!" Brandon laughed. "Don't you want her to bear you a dozen little red-headed children?"

Eddard knew that the thought was a nice one, and the thought of slowly peeling her dress of her body was equally attractive, but discussing it in such an open way made him uncomfortable, to say the least.

"Yes," he admitted to his brother, "but not until after I marry her, if I marry her! I haven't decided yet, Bran."

"Lies," he teased. "You have decided, you're just too scared to admit to yourself how badly you want her, and if that means you're going to marry her before you have her so be it, but you want her, Ned."

"Good night," Eddard snapped at his brother as they reached their respective rooms, and he did not wait to hear the courtesy that he knew would follow his brother's laughter.

The fact was Brandon's words hit a bit too close. Eddard's mind was already conjuring images of what Amala's naked body looked like, imagining how silky and soft her skin would feel beneath his fingertips, how full and heavy her breasts would feel cupped in his hands.

He'd never lain with a woman before, but suddenly Eddard could hardly think of something that seemed more appealing in the world.

Early the next morning Eddard thought he would be the first to the stables, but he found Amala had gotten there before him, feeding sugar cubes to her mare. She was smiling and Eddard stopped, watching her as she petted the horse. She looked nothing like the girl who had been so uncomfortable with the mare the day before.

"I'm taking your advice, Ned," she said, not looking at him but somehow knowing it was him. "I decided to figure out how not to be afraid or anxious so that my horse wouldn't jostle me so badly today."

"How is that going for you?" he asked, moving a bit closer, petting the gentle mare and admiring how incredibly well-bred it was.

"Well enough, I think," she sighed, turning to look at him at last, her beautiful eyes boring into his. "I'm not so afraid anymore."

Eddard couldn't help but smile as her hand brushed his as she worked it through the mane. His heart had beat just a bit faster at the contact, and he wished she would do it again, but she didn't. Against his better judgment, he stood just a bit closer to her, watching her face as she turned to look at the mare once more, her beautiful hair falling like a curtain, blocking her face from his view.

With a hand twitching with excitement, Eddard reached forward and brushed the hair out of his view of her face, tucking it behind her ear. There was a thrill running through him as he touched her face, his hand lingering, and she turned to look at him once more, a soft smile on her face and a question in her gaze.

"It... it looked like it was in the way," he said lamely as an explanation.

Before either of them had a chance to say anything else, though, they were joined by the other members of their party, readying themselves to leave.

Eddard watched her as they rode during the day, not feeling any shame in it, and feeling a sense of pride when he caught her turning to look at him. She would blush attractively, the pink in her cheeks a wonderful compliment to the red of her hair. He knew that his brother and Catelyn were whispering about them and laughing together, shooting looks back at Eddard and Amala knowingly.

It didn't matter, Eddard decided, because he had touched her face and she hadn't stopped him. That was enough.

Maybe he would ask her to marry him, he thought, watching the sun glint off her hair. Maybe he would talk to her father on the way back north, dropping the girls back at Riverrun. Why not? As Brandon had pointed out, he really had nothing to lose, and plenty to gain for asking. And when she smiled at him...

Yes, Eddard decided as they neared King's Landing. He would marry Amala Tully. Everything would happen as he imagined it in his mind. And he could marry her after Brandon married Catelyn and take her to Winterfell where they would stay with Brandon and Catelyn and have dozens of children.

They were greeted by Jon Arryn and Robert Baratheon almost the moment they arrived.

"Ned! Bran!" Robert called, his voice rumbling happily. "Took you long enough to get here! Ah, Lyanna!"

Lyanna smiled.

She was betrothed to Robert, and he was completely infatuated with her. It was different, Eddard knew, from how he was feeling about Amala. Robert, as Lyanna had pointed out to Eddard as they talked about the match one night, was not very discrete about his many affairs with a variety of women. Eddard hardly even wanted to look at anyone else but Amala.

Jon Arryn kissed the hands of the ladies and shook the hands of the Stark brothers, and then he turned to Amala.

"And how is Lysa?"

"Well, thank you, Lord Arryn," Amala said graciously.

"For the thousandth time, Amy, it's Jon," he laughed. "Are you excited for your first tourney?"

Amala shrugged, ignoring Robert, who Eddard got the feeling she didn't like very much, and walked further into the inn, leading the whole group along to the front desk.

When they settled at the inn, Eddard watched Amala head up to her room and he barely noticed that Jon Arryn was watching him watch her.

"Bran tells me you're smitten," Jon said softly, causing Eddard to jump slightly. "She's a remarkable young woman, Ned. She'd be hard to handle, though. I think she'd make an excellent Stark, much like Cat."

Eddard sighed, smiling.

"Maybe Tullys and Starks just make good pairs," he said with a shrug. "Maybe we should try to marry Ben and Lysa."

"No, I don't think so," Jon said, frowning, shaking his head. "Lysa doesn't have the strength those two have."

Eddard frowned, wondering who Lysa would marry, when the time came.

"Bran says you're thinking of marrying her," Jon whispered, leaning in closer to Eddard, who nodded. "I would say to do it. The way she was looking at you when you came in was pretty clear, almost clearer to me than the way you're still staring after her and she's been gone for going on five minutes. You're over the moon about her."

He smiled at Jon and said, "Yes, I am. And I think I'm going ask her. I mean, I'm going to ask her father, you know, when we get back to Riverrun."

"Another word of advice," Jon whispered, leaning so close that Eddard felt slightly uncomfortable. "Take advantage of your opportunities and live a little. I don't want to see you pass by something that could be a beautiful memory for the sake of propriety. Keep that in mind, Ned. Have a good night. I'll see you tomorrow."

Eddard frowned after Jon, wondering what exactly that met, but the weariness of travelling was beginning to set in and he decided it would be better to think on it later, when he'd had a chance to sleep.


	3. The World Outside

Amala decided that she hated Ashara Dayne.

She didn't hate her exactly, but she did hate how the Stark brothers seemed so familiar with her. Well, not _her_ exactly, but they were very familiar with her brother, Arthur, and Ashara always seemed to be at Arthur's side, batting her pretty eyelashes over her pretty eyes and flipping her pretty curls over her shoulder. How was Amala supposed to compete with someone so put-together, so _obviously_ desperate for attention?

It wasn't as though Eddard belonged to Amala, but she liked to think of him as hers, and that was harder to do with Ashara Dayne flirting with him.

"What do you know about Ashara Dayne?" Amala asked Catelyn as they sat with Lyanna at the inn, watching the boys from the window as they interacted outside.

"Not much," Catelyn admitted, smiling down at the boys as they hit each other with sticks. "She's very pretty, and I've heard she's an excellent dancer."

"I'll bet she's not as good as me," Amala grumbled, horrified at the thought that someone could possibly be a better dancer than her. The thought had never occurred to her before as a possibility. What if Eddard danced with Ashara Dayne and fell in love with her and wanted nothing to do with Amala after all?

"I think she's very pretty," Lyanna said casually, "but she's quite fickle. You needn't worry, Amy. Ned could never look twice at someone so simple and shallow. Bran might, and Robert certainly would, but Ned's a bit of an old soul that way. I've never even seen him look at a woman before until he met you, not in the way that Ashara Dayne gets boys to look at her. She's asking to be raped, if you ask me."

"Lyanna!" Catelyn gasped. "That's a terrible thing to say."

Lyanna shrugged.

"Terrible, perhaps, but true nonetheless."

Amala shook her head, trying not to smile at Lyanna's blunt honesty. She couldn't help but appreciate the Stark girl, knowing her manner to be very much like that of her brother, Brandon. Amala wondered how the marriage between Robert and Lyanna would manage, considering how honest she was, and how much he hated being told what to do, even when he was being told good sense. She'd listened to Jon Arryn talk of Robert Baratheon for quite some time. The idea of him married at all was a strange one, truthfully.

"Do you think she's prettier than me?" Amala whispered, looking down at the boys to see Eddard helping Robert out of the dirt, which it seemed Brandon had knocked him into. It was funny, the way boys played at fighting their friends, thinking that could somehow help them fight their enemies someday. It was not the same thing. Any fool must be able to see that.

Lyanna pursed her lips thoughtfully, and Catelyn was obviously pretending she hadn't heard the question. Finally, Lyanna said, "No, Amy, I don't think she's half as pretty as you."

Amala found herself smiling as she looked down at the needlework Catelyn was doing, wishing she had nimble enough fingers to pull off the sort of elegant design Catelyn always produced. Amala's fingers were muddled and foolish, incapable of doing such things as fine embroidery or intricate hair styling.

"I think she's prettier than me," Amala admitted softly. "I think you're all prettier than me."

"Don't be silly, Amy," Catelyn tutted disapprovingly. "You shouldn't focus on how other people find your looks, anyway. You ought to focus on skills you've yet to master, anyway."

"I don't see why," Amala said willfully. "I'm never going to have to sew anything, anyway. I'll either marry someone who has people to sew things for me or I'll stay with mother and father and they've got plenty of people to sew things for me. What difference does it make if I master a skill I'll never use? I know how to dance. That's the only skill I ever use, anyway."

Catelyn just frowned down at her needlework, making sure she didn't miss a stitch, and Lyanna watched the sisters, obviously not wanting to intrude on what anyone could have recognized as an argument that had been had many times before.

"A Stark," Catelyn finally said smoothly, "whether the future Lord Stark or no, will expect their wife to be skilled in certain things. Perhaps even more so for Ned or Ben's wives, as their children will have less of the attention of the family's Septa and the mother may need to take on more of the duties for the education of the children."

"Well, maybe I just won't have daughters, then," Amala said petulantly, and she was grateful that her sister didn't point out the impossibility of such a declaration to be seen through in real life.

Amala didn't mind the idea of having daughters, not really, but she did mind the idea of being forced to put her daughters through the same scrutiny that her own childhood had been unfortunately fraught with.

Lyanna decided to break the awkwardness by saying, "I wonder what Edmure and Benjen are up to, since they're not hitting each other with sticks like the other boys."

"Probably rolling around in the mud," Catelyn said with a small smile quirking at the corners of her lips. She and Amala had a soft spot for Edmure, even softer than for Lysa.

"Likely," Amala said with a grin, looking down just in time to see Eddard looking up at their window. She couldn't make out his face, couldn't tell for sure that he was looking for or at her, but she liked to thin that it had to do with her. She kept her wish to herself, but the knowing smile Lyanna gave her made Amala think that her secrets were not really anything close to secrets, not when everyone else seemed to know more about them than she could imagine.

"I think it's time we go down," Lyanna said. "The dancing will happen soon, and I know you don't want to miss that."

The girls quickly freshened up, heading down to the tourney yard where the dance was just getting started. Amala frowned to find Ashara Dayne already flirting with some knight Amala didn't know or recognize. How could anyone be such a shameless whore?

But that wasn't quite fair, Amala knew. After all, plenty of girls flirted without any intention to do more than get attention and admiration. Cersei Lannister was notorious for it all the way across to the Vale, Jon Arryn had said. It was also well known that she was chaste as frost.

The Starks, Edmure, Jon, and Robert joined Amala, Catelyn, and Lyanna, smiles on their faces and somehow looking as though they didn't spend the day swatting each other with sticks.

"Is that Jaime Lannister?" Amala asked, spotting a boy with a head of golden curls not too much older than her, probably close to Catelyn's age, looking bold and incredibly well-dressed. "You're right, Jon, he is quite beautiful."

"Beautiful enough to be a king," Lyanna agreed. "But I hear he's got more vanity than his sister, even."

"That is certainly an understatement, sister," Eddard said coldly.

"What, the beautiful enough to be king part?" Lyanna teased. "It really doesn't matter, Ned. He'll never be king, no matter what his ambitions. He is a lion of Lannister, no dragon."

Of course, she had to say that, but Amala thought it was true enough. There was a look that passed between Brandon, Jon, and Robert that might have suggested otherwise, but Amala was too busy watching Eddard glare at Jaime Lannister, obviously offended by his very presence.

The Starks hated the Lannisters, which was no secret to anyone throughout the country. But there was something much more personal in the way Eddard was regarding the Lannister across the way, and Amala got a thrill at thinking that he might have been jealous of her complimenting the blond boy.

"I say it's time we dance!" Robert finally said. "It is, after all, why we're here! Lyanna, may I have the honor?"

Lyanna smiled graciously and took his hand, allowing him to lead her out amongst the dancing couples. Brandon held out his hand to Catelyn, who took it quickly, and before Eddard could do a thing Jon Arryn offered his hand grandly to Amala, who did not want to be so rude as to not take it.

Dancing with Jon Arryn wasn't as wonderful as dancing with Eddard had been, but it was a nice sort of familiar, and he was in a very merry mood, which lightened her own mood considerably.

That is, until she saw Brandon and Eddard talking with Ashara and Arthur Dayne over Jon's shoulder. Jon sighed and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"He isn't interested in her, Amy. Ned has no interest in a girl like her. Bran's the one who thinks she's pretty. Ned's only got eyes for you."

"Bran?" Amala asked, surprised, looking over with surprise to see that Brandon Stark was eyeing Ashara Dayne with approval. "But Cat-"

"Amy, he's a man," Jon said with a sigh. "Perhaps he is no Robert Baratheon, but he and Catelyn are not bound in marriage yet and he has certainly lain with women before. He thinks Ashara Dayne is a pretty girl and wants to share a bed with her for a night. He is still going to marry Cat, and I think he will probably be quite faithful to her. He is a Stark, after all."

But Amala felt sick at the thought.

"It's not that I didn't think he'd been with a woman," she admitted to Jon, "but I wouldn't have thought he'd have such poor taste, nor that he would do such a thing with Cat right here."

"That's something I'll not comment on directly, Amy," Jon laughed. "But I will say that Bran and Lya have a wildness to them, something very much from their mother's side, that Ned does not, and if they're not careful it will get them in quite a lot of trouble."

Amala was glad that Ned was a Stark through and through, like his father, Lord Rickard. He was a gentleman, someone with morals and a sense of honor stronger than Valyrian steel. Eddard Stark was the perfect man.

As soon as she was done dancing with Jon, though, she went to find the Starks and Tullys and saw Lyanna and Brandon laughing about something.

"What's so funny?" she asked, good-naturedly.

"Bran made Ned ask Ashara Dayne to dance," Lyanna said, pointing, and against her better judgment Amala turned to look.

There he was, Ashara Dayne giggling as he swirled her around clumsily, putting on a smile that was his polite, constrained smile, not the one that he'd given Amala at Riverrun. But even that was small consolation to the fact that he did seem to be enjoying himself.

Disregarding the words Lyanna had said about Bran making Ned ask, Amala nodded her head slightly, narrowing her eyes, searching the crowd for a head of blond curls.

"He seems to be enjoying himself," she said with a stiff voice, still searching. Before Lyanna or Brandon could answer her, Amala locked onto her target. "Excuse me," she muttered, and hurried away through the crowd after Jaime Lannister, who was getting another cup of wine.

She'd been able to trip herself on cue for a while, making what she could do either accidental or on purpose seem a complete accident, but she decided against it for this particular instance. She didn't think Jaime Lannister was the type to care whether you meant to spill his wine all down your dress or not. She would have to make it seem his fault.

And so Amala casually walked in his direction, just where she knew he would step when he turned, seeming to be looking at someone in the distance, and thankfully the wine didn't spill as he collided with her.

"My apologies, my lady," Jaime said smoothly. "You are unhurt, I hope?"

"Yes, thank you, ser," she said, knowing he was not yet a knight, but hoping to flatter him.

It worked.

"Call me Jaime, my lady," he told her with a winning smile, although it was not as bright as Eddard's she decided. "I am as of yet too young to be a knight. What may I have the pleasure of calling you?"

"Amala, Jaime," she said sweetly. "Amala Tully."

"Hestor's daughter," he murmured, almost to himself as he looked her over, sipping his wine. "I've heard you are a wonderful dancer, Amala Tully."

"It has been said," she told him with her sweetest smile. "Would you care to find out?"

"It's like you read my mind," Jaime Lannister said smoothly, handing is wine to a boy she guessed was his cousin and holding out a hand to her. "I assure you I'm not half as clumsy dancing as walking."

"We shall see," she said, allowing him to lead her out into the dancing.

By the time his arms were around her, Amala's eyes were already searching the other dancers for Eddard and Ashara. She couldn't find them, either of them, and she could feel her heart quicken in panic. What if Jon had been wrong? What if they decided they liked each other better than Lord Arryn had seemed to think?

"You dance with natural grace, Amala Tully," Jaime Lannister whispered in her ear. "Care to tell me now why you bumped into me?"

Her blood chilled.

He knew? How could he have known that she had purposefully made sure he ran into her? She'd been so discrete, she was sure of it!

"I'm sorry?" she breathed.

"You know perfectly well what I mean, sweet one," he said in a dangerous sort of voice. "I am not so clumsy as to walk into people who aren't making an effort to walk into me. So what was your purpose?"

Amala swallowed, knowing instinctively that he wasn't the sort of boy to take kindly to being used. She had to come up with a proper lie and deliver it quickly and believably.

"I confess," she sighed, "that I did it on purpose. But you see, I couldn't find any of the men in my party... who aren't engaged to my sister, and I so wanted to dance with someone capable. I had heard that you were talented in many things, and I decided I wanted to see myself if your dancing was as handsome as your face."

She was certainly getting her flattering face on, and he was eating it up out of the palm of her hand. It was fairly obvious to Amala that Jaime Lannister didn't like her, but rather the words coming out of her mouth, just as she didn't like him, but she liked the purpose he suited, trying to get Eddard to notice her again.

Ah, yes, Eddard. Where was he?

Her eyes scanned the dancers and she couldn't find the face of Eddard, the only person she wanted to see.

"Who do you look for?" Jaime Lannister said in her ear.

"I thought I saw my sister," Amala lied. "I was mistaken."

She would have to be more discrete about her search, but she couldn't give up looking for him. She had to find him, had to see if he'd seen her with Jaime Lannister.

"Have you yet met the prince and his wife, Amala Tully?" Jaime said in a boastful voice.

"No, I'm afraid to say that I haven't," Amala said softly.

"My sister has been at court for a while," he continued to boast. "So she knows everyone. Have you met my sister?"

"No, I've not," she said tiredly, still dancing, still searching. The song was longer than she'd expected, or was that a trick of her own irritation?

Where was Eddard?

"I hear your sister is to marry Brandon Stark," Jaime continued. "A good match, that."

Amala wondered what Jaime Lannister would make of the betrothal she'd overheard her father discussing with his steward, a match of him and Lysa, which her father seemed to want quite badly. He'd been working very hard at a match of Lysa, and practically ignoring Amala in return.

Not that that was too difficult to understand. After all, he actually had a prayer of getting a match for Lysa, but everyone had been certain that Lord Hoster Tully would be trying to find a match for his second daughter until the day he died.

"Yes, she's thrilled," Amala managed to say as she continued to look for Eddard. "He's a wonderful man."

"Is he on the lists?" Jaime asked, and she got the sense that he would very much like to go up against Brandon Stark, as if he were old enough to be in the tourney anyway.

"I don't believe so," she said airily, still searching, searching, searching. "I suppose the prince is doing the jousting?"

"I believe so," Jaime said, with the air of one who had a lot of authority. Perhaps he did, his sister living in King's Landing.

"Well," Amala said, trying to find Eddard still over Jaime's shoulder, "I expect that should be good to watch."

"I could unhorse him," he boasted. "I could unhorse him right now, if I were old enough to enter the lists."

Amala was just swallowing a host of doubtful, biting comments to this claim when she saw Eddard standing on the edge of the crowd, watching her dance with Jaime Lannister with gray eyes full of fury and hurt. She didn't see Ashara Dayne. She didn't see anything but the way he looked at Jaime like he wanted to run him through.

And she wasn't sure if she was proud of her plan or feeling entirely guilty for it. But she couldn't get away from Jaime Lannister fast enough when the music changed, hurrying toward Eddard, who just watched her approach.

**A/N: Firstly, my mistake if I mentioned that this is at King's Landing. It's not, obvs. Harrenhal. It's at Harrenhal. And in other notes, I'm working on continuing the story of another author, a story called **_**Faithful**_**. It's SanxSan! So if you'd been reading that, or if you just like SanxSan, that's coming soon!**

** -C**


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